


The Dying Detective

by yuletide_archivist



Category: The Great Mouse Detective (1986)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-22
Updated: 2004-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:16:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1638473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Empire and the day may have been saved, but Evil hardly gives<br/>up without a fight.  Basil/Dawson, missing scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dying Detective

**Author's Note:**

> Written for foggynite

 

 

The London gales blew them back to Baker Street with extraordinary speed. Mr.   
Flaversham held onto his daughter tightly, and she was glad for the affection, even if she   
kept squirming about to catch sight of the city below.

"It's saved, then," Basil said, sitting on the edge of their craft. "That Rattigan came so   
close to succeeding..." A weary amazement tinged his voice, making Dr. Dawson look   
over, worry twitching his whiskers.

"If London sleeps safely tonight, it's because of you," Dawson said with a soft, genuine   
smile. "Only someone with your incredible genius could have stopped him - and your   
courage." Dawson turned his head and looked down to Hyde Park far below, a strange   
heaviness in his chest at the memory of Basil plummeting from Big Ben.

"And my excellent sense of timing," Basil said in his sardonic voice. "If that clock hadn't   
struck when it did..." He trailed off, scratching at his ear. "This latest plot would have   
been foiled but Rattigan would have found a way to return to power, I have no doubt of   
that. Even now, I worry that he truly isn't gone."

"Why Basil! Even a...a thing as evil as he was couldn't survive a fall like that!" The   
larger mouse turned, his eyes wide in astonishment, even as he tried to keep his voice   
down. It wouldn't do to upset Olivia and her father, after their ordeal.

"Evil always finds a way to linger on," Basil replied matter-of-factly. He winced and   
rubbed at one of the shallow gashes on his arm.

**

Mrs. Judson had put the inventor and his daughter up in one of the spare bedrooms; by   
the time they returned to Baker Street, Olivia was fast asleep in her father's arms. A   
bedroom was prepared for Dawson as well, as in the excitement of the case, he hadn't   
exactly had time to search for living quarters, or even a hotel.

"Well, old chap, I'll see you -" A sudden fit of coughing interrupted Basil, whose tiny   
body shook from the sudden, violent motion. Dawson twitched his nose in concern and   
stepped closer, though Basil tried to wave him off.

"It's just a cough, Doctor," the detective said, sinking into one of the chairs in front of the   
fire. "Surely you've seen much worse.."

"I have," Dawson said in a surprisingly no-nonsense manner. "Which is why my   
instincts tell me something is wrong with you." Perhaps more than his instincts, perhaps   
it was that same part of him that had been devastated at the detective's near-fatal   
plummet - and felt a sweet, somewhat strange elation at seeing him pedaling up to safety   
again.

"Fine, fine, dose me up with your codeine," Basil said, eyes half-lidded, as Dawson   
rummaged around in his medical bag. "Or something stronger, if you have it."

Plucking out a stethoscope and thermometer from his bag, Dawson settled down besides   
the chair. He slipped the thermometer into the other mouse's mouth without too much   
protest. There was more protest about sliding off his dressing gown, but finally the   
detective muttered it was too bloody hot for the heavy flannel garment.

"You're running a fever," Dawson murmured as he pulled out the thermometer and   
examined it. He wrapped his paw around Basil's bony wrist and frowned even deeper.   
Where there should have been a hum there was a faintly irregular trill. He had Basil,   
after another violent coughing fit, lean forward as he pressed the stethoscope to his back.

"Could you get that blasted thing any colder?" Basil muttered, wiping his mouth with his   
paw. The doctor didn't answer him, however, nor did he even look up. The fever and   
slow pulse had Dawson worried; the sound of fluid in the detective's lungs had him   
terrified. They were both worn down by their ordeal at Rattigan's claws-

"Rattigan's claws! Dear God!" The stethoscope slid out of Dawson's paws as he looked   
at the fresh bandages over Basil's chest. The smaller mouse looked at him through an   
encroaching fever-induced delirium, but his astounding genius still shone through.

"It's as I told you," Basil said wearily, a tremendous sigh rippling through his frame.   
"Evil always finds a way.."

**

Dawson and Mrs. Judson had gotten no sleep the night before; Dawson judged his patient   
had little actual rest, either. Basil had tossed and turned in feverish nightmares - from   
what Dawson could make out, it seemed as if the dreams were of Rattigan's fiendish plan   
coming to pass. They had tried cold compresses and even ice baths, but his temperature   
always came climbing back up. Some willow bark tea had finally tempered the worst of   
his fever, even if Basil's brow was still very warm to the touch.

"Is there anything you can do, Doctor?" Mrs. Judson asked, a weary desperation in her   
voice. She had been in tears when Dawson had told her the news Basil had been   
poisoned with an insidious agent, one for which there was no cure. It was simply a   
matter of waiting, to see if his body, and mind, could outlive the toxin ravaging him. But   
her grief had given way to a steely determination Dawson had only caught glimpses of   
before. Yet with the sun glinting in the window, and their patient beginning to slip away   
before their very eyes, she couldn't stay much stronger for long.

"I've done all I can," Dawson said, his tail lashing back and forth in agitation. "We've   
treated his fever and his lungs the best we can, but now his blood pressure is dropping.   
As for that.." As desperate as the situation was, the surgeon was exhausted, and answers   
slipped away from him like fleeting clouds.  
"Is Basil going to be all right?" Olivia's lilting accent interrupted the deathly silence left   
by Dawson's unfinished sentence. She took off her cap and hesitated at the door, peering   
over to the bed with worried eyes.

"I hope so, Olivia, I hope so," Dawson said, giving her a friendly pat on the head. "But   
he's made it through much worse than this, I've heard, so don't you give up yet."

The young girl nodded, rummaging about in her pocket. "Da told me you didn't get to   
sleep at all last night, and you didn't have any breakfast. He brought me some licorice,   
but I thought you and Mrs. Judson might want it more. It always makes me feel better.."

"My dear child, that's very sweet of you, but I-" Dawson blinked and then all but leapt up   
in excitement. "My dear girl, that's it! Olivia, you've saved the day, and maybe even   
Basil's life!" He turned to Mrs. Judson and pressed a few crowns into her hand. "Go to   
the chemist and buy as much licorice root as you can. Make a strong tea of it once you   
get home, and we'll need to make sure he drinks all of it."

"Of course, Doctor! Bless you, bless you both!" Mrs. Judson took Olivia by the hand   
and the two women were out the door in a flash. Dawson heard the girl begging her   
father to go with the housekeeper; the inventor insisted they would all go, so that there   
would be more paws to carry home the miracle herb. Slumping down in the chair by   
Basil's bed, he rested a paw on the detective's sweat-beaded brow.

"For saving your life, you had best remember her name when you wake up," Dawson   
said, affectionately smoothing Basil's damp fur.

**

The licorice root indeed stopped the detective's precarious slide. Dawson and Mrs.   
Judson alternated the sweet smelling tea with the rather bitter willow bark concoction. It   
was approaching sunset and the detective had yet to open his eyes, but Dawson was   
convinced the worst had passed.

"Mrs. Judson, do get some sleep. You've been on your feet for nearly a day now, you   
must be exhausted," Dawson said to the older woman.

"As you must be, Doctor," the housekeeper began to protest, but Dawson gently but   
firmly placed his paws on her shoulders.

"Yes, but I'm the doctor. I appreciate all your help, Mrs. Judson, but we'll need you   
bright and alert for tomorrow. I have no doubt Basil will be back to his cantankerous self   
once he awakens." Dawson flashed her a warm smile, which melted the last of her   
stubborn resolve.

"All right, Doctor, but you call me if you need anything," she said, looking at the   
sleeping detective before heading slowly out of the room.  
Dawson slumped into the bedside chair with a sigh. He didn't know how long it was,   
minutes or hours, but he finally heard his patient stirring.

"Easy now, easy now, you've been asleep for nearly a day," Dawson said to the bleary-  
eyed detective. "You frightened us all, but the worst of it's over now.."

"The worst of it," Basil repeated in a low, scratchy voice. "Doctor, what happened? The   
last I remember you were hovering about me with your medical bag, and..." The slow   
dawn of comprehension came into his weary eyes. "Rattigan's poison. Fever, slow   
pulse, fluid in the lungs - the poison made from castor oil mash. He had false claws, and   
they were tipped with the poison." Basil laughed bitterly. "Even in death, he outsmarted   
me."

"Because even in death he was as treacherous as he was evil!" Dawson recognized the   
defeat in Basil's voice, and he was bound to put a stop to it right now. "I don't know a   
single soul who's survived that poison until today, Basil - do you know what kind of   
strength that took?"

"Mere luck, Doctor," Basil retorted, wincing at the pain in Dawson's eyes at the   
comment. "With no disrespect to your obvious skill as a surgeon," he added, but even   
that didn't placate the larger mouse. "But if I couldn't even see such a simple means of   
revenge coming, what good am I? How can I protect the Empire?"

"You did protect, the Empire, Basil," Dawson said, his voice growing more urgent. "The   
Queen herself rang today to thank you, and she was most worried about you. Clearly, she   
thinks the safety of her realm is in the right paws."

"This time, perhaps, but what of the next time, dear Doctor?" Basil sighed and rested his   
head back upon the pillow. "And her majesty may be foolish enough to place her trust in   
me, but the rest of mousedom knows better. I'm not needed..."

"You are! You are by me!" The words were out of Dawson's mouth before he even   
realized it, and even Basil looked up in surprise. He didn't answer, however, but let   
Dawson finish his confession. "When I saw you fall from Big Ben, as I've been   
watching over you and praying that you would open your eyes and look at me again.."   
The larger mouse lowered his head. "I've realized how much I need you, Basil. How   
much of me would be lost if you died."

Basil twitched his whiskers, a soft, reassuring smile on his lips. "You must be tired, dear   
Doctor," he said, his eyes starting to flutter close himself. "Get some rest, I assure you   
I'll be quite all right."

"But Basil-" Dawson looked shocked and more than a little embarrassed.

"I'll be quite all right, Doctor," Basil repeated, opening his eyes a crack, that same smile   
on his lips. "I promise."

**

Basil's powers of recovery were remarkable, and in a few days he was up and about   
again. He was even well enough to attend his knighting, much to everyone's delight.   
The detective teased Dawson about watching him like a mother hen, but no more was   
said of the doctor's earnest confession. With a heavy heart, Dawson thought that Basil   
surely didn't return his feelings.

Finally, it came the day for the Flaversham's and Dawson's departure. Basil still   
couldn't pronounce Olivia's surname correctly, but Dawson let it go with a lighthearted   
"whatever." Dawson's farewell was interrupted by the arrival of a fetching young   
woman - Basil's next case, no doubt. And so it was with utter shock that he heard Basil   
introduce him, Dr. David Q. Dawson, as his partner.

It was with the lightest thrill of delight that Basil took his paw in his, lingering for just a   
moment longer than was seemly, and gave him that soft, gentle smile.

 


End file.
